So many things were left unsaid
by syriana94
Summary: DRABBLES/ONE-SHOT. [Collection of COBERT, various kinds - some taken from my tumblr] - PROMPT ME, If you like, in the reviews! Enjoy!
1. Just this once

**Prompt: "just this once" + baby + cobert (from a friend) / AU / one-shot: 603 words.**

* * *

JUST THIS ONCE **  
**

"How did he do that?" Robert inquired, looking in his wife's direction.

"He's clever." she simply stated, not able to think of how their barely one-year-old son could have been able to climb up to their duvet from the cradle at the end of the bed.

"He wants to be rocked to sleep." his voice was condescending.  
He knew it was a bad thing; after all, their daughters had never needed that sort of things, they all had had their nanny and their nursery.  
Why Cora chose to act different with their blessed one, it was a mystery. He did want him to grow up self-confident and that fondness he showed for Cora worried him no small: he claimed for her hold _all the time_.  
Yet, he couldn't help himself from smiling when he saw his young son crawling quickly to his mother's open arms, nestling to her chest with a big and content smile on his tiny, rosy lips.

They were gorgeous.

"We still don't need a nanny, Robert." she cooed like she was talking to the baby. In fact she was indeed looking down at him, smiling when he smiled back. He knew that the speech was directed to him and he listened, surprised that she'd spoken like she'd read his mind.  
He sighed.

"It would be easier for you, darling." he shifted closer to them, caressing the baby's tiny head. It could perfectly fit into his palm.

"I don't want this to be easier." that sweet smile was for him, this time. "I want this to be just like this."

Oh the things she had to give up. Three times she had been a mother, before him, and none of those times she'd felt like a _mother_. Her heart had ached everytime her baby daughters cried, incapable of console themself without nanny's assistance. She felt like three beautiful daughters had been delivered to her care already grown up, leaving her just the tasks of supporting them or advising them as best as she could.

This time she wanted to raise her baby. From the beginning, like she'd done for the whole year. She'd fed him, lulled him, changed him and now she wanted to teach him how to walk, how to talk, she wanted to teach him everything, to watch Robert doing the same for the riding or the hunting or showing him how to be a proper lord.

That little one was everything she'd always wished for: he was her last chance to be a real mother.

"So be it." Robert's lips brushed on Cora's velvet skin.

After all, he quite enjoyed himself having the boy in their room for the night, he quite liked been there for him when he needed him, even in the middle of the night, hungry or in disconfort. He felt more like a father too.

"Maybe he can sleep here for the night..?" Cora didn't dare to look her husband in the eye. He didn't speak and she could feel and see his reproving glance. "Just for this one night."

"Cora, I-" she shushed him down with a gentle hiss. Robert soon realized their son had fallen asleep.  
Oh how much he would have like to be more strong.  
But he just didn't have the heart to wake him up, so beautiful and so angelic, so perfect on his mother's breasts, his lips slighty parted.

"Just this once." Cora insisted, shifting smoothly under the covers without disturbing the little one.

Robert sighed, smiling, turning to switch off the light.  
" _Just this once._ " he repeated, holding both of his miracles until he fell asleep.


	2. Glow

**Lovehandleslithium (breesecretdaughter) gave me a lot of prompt-words on tumblr. I chose "Glow".**

 **Missing Moments / 555 words**

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GLOW

Robert tried to curl up behind a hill of yellow and dry grass. He'd found a hollow in the ground, just big enough to give shelter to him and to his partner. He tried to cringe as best as he could.

"We need to retreat!" he shouted, but a new explosion covered his voice, causing his ears to ring.

"We can't, sir!" the muffled voice of the man beside him caught him by surprise.  
Why? Was it not the phrase all the men had yearned for days

"If we proceed-"  
They were both thrown up into the air.

Robert hit the ground hard, while sand and piles of turf covered him completely.  
He saw only a thick fog.  
His chest burned, his body was sore and worn out, his ears were injured.  
Robert didn't know for how long did he remain unconscious before seeing again the light of the sun, hot and bright on the blue African's sky.

"Sir, sir!" it was a remote whisper.  
He closed his eyes again.

He dreamed about Cora. He always dreamed about Cora. His sweet, gracious, yet so distant Cora with their three beautiful daughters- oh how much did he miss them, how much did he miss _her_.  
Cora, Cora.  
It was the last thing he whispered before sleeping and he woke up with her name on the lips every morning.  
He missed their children young voices, gleeful and clear, he missed his wife's voice, so melodious and velvety.  
But most of all he missed her hold, her smile- oh her lips. Red and soft. Kissing her was heaven.

"Sir!" he jerked on site, glancing around to learn where he was, where _they_ were.

"What happened?" his voice cracked a little.

"A grenade, sir." his voice was awfully flat. "Most of the men are dead. We're surrounded." Robert strived to ignore those information.

"Where are we?"

"A small cave." his eyes were alert "It's- a matter of minutes." he sighed loudly.

So that was it. They were going to die there, they were not going to see their homes again. He began to softly sob without even realizing it.

"Bates, I-"

"Not for you, sir. It's late for me, but not for you." only now he'd seen the horrid gash on his leg, bleeding.

"I can't leave you here, Bates." Robert was panting.

"You can and you _must_ , sir." he paused "I'll distract them. Our camp is at North, a couple of hour far away."

"I cant-"

"Sir, you must find your glow." Robert looked him blankly, he was shocked; but most of all he admired his bravery "There are going to be so much dark days. But you need to find your glow." John's eyes were glassy "It's nearly over, sir. You can't give up now."

Robert's hand ran to his chest, there, where on the inside pocket rested a little portrait of Cora, just above his heart.  
So when he ran, half of his partner's weight on his shoulder, sounds of shots and yells behind them.

Her ran, ran, ran.

He was thinking about all those nights of fear, all those nights that were still yet to come.. and he thought about what he kept him going. Now and Forever.

His Cora, his beautiful, lonely star in the night.

His Cora, sweet, delicious, beloved Cora. His _glow_.


	3. Goodbye (AU: Hogwarts)

**Mr./Mrs. Anon asked on my tumblr "Goodbye" + Hogwarts.**

 **AU: Cobert as students of** _ **Hogwarts, School of**_ _ **Witchcraft and Wizardry**_ **.  
One-Shot: ****1572** **words.**

* * *

"I'll never understand you." said John, his hands busy with the polish lotion he used for his quidditch leather protections. "She's a Hufflepuff, man! Say goodbye to the girl and get over with it!"

Robert groaned.

 _She's a Hufflepuff, she's a Hufflepuff._

That was what he kept hearing since he first confessed his interest in her.  
She was a Hufflepuff, so what? A love story between a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff was forbidden? Was it a matter of houses? Was it pride?  
Was it 1890?

 _She's a Hufflepuff._

Even his mother said so in her last letter. And even though it was a written sentence, he'd felt all her disapproved and annoyed tone.

Yes, of course, she did not belong to an important dynasty of great wizards like him and his family, their parents were esteemed just enough, but who did still care for that stuff? A lot of people, apparently.  
His mama, first of, all and also his friends.. everyone he knew thought that a Hufflepuff, _that_ Hufflepuff, wasn't just good for him.

Sometimes he feared that her yellow and black house was just an excuse.  
Was it a good marriage still so important? Power and pride were still the priorities? Didn't love count?

Fool him.

Love. He'd thought ' _love_ '. So was it love, the real kind of love?

Robert's lips were curved into a shy smile. Oh if only he could have admitted it.

He was just a fool. A fool in love.

* * *

"This is not a fairytale.." Cora turned her head to the gridded window when the soft voice of Phyllis, her roommate, caressed the air.

Cora knew what was the topic of her conversation. It had been the same since the first trimester and of course in the last months it had intensified.  
After all, she knew that her friend might had been right, but she didn't want to believe her, not when her heart was so sure, not when her mind was so obsessed.

Of course she was a Hufflepuff and he a Ravenclaw, he was rich and from a wealthy family of famous wizards, while she was a mediocre first-born of an esteemed family in the Ministry of Magic.  
Yet she knew that Robert wasn't like the others: he didn't care for those sort imbalance.  
Or perhaps she was just in love, unable to see things clearly.

"I can't bear it." she sighed sharply, folding for the third time her blue scarf, his gift.

It was a cold winter night, on the way back from Hogsmade when they bumped into each other, and Cora was trembling by frost as always and of course, as always, she'd had forgotten her scarf. He'd been so nice, a gentleman, borrowing his, and never asked it back; then suddenly the scent of cologne and peppermint had become, for Cora, the perfume of their first real encounter.  
So many others had followed, during the matches, in the corridors between lessons, several were the glances shared into the main hall or before entering the train for their comebacks home for Christmas.  
They had talked so little and despite that she fell for his light blue eyes, his warm hands, she fell for the slight touch he always endeavoured while reaching some place in the castle side by side.  
And suddenly the random meetings had become methodical. She knew his class schedule as he knew hers. He often wait outside the tower after her potion lessons for a quick 'hello', like she did every Friday for a soft 'goodnight' after dinner, right before the stairs.

It had been a dream, for months, until they'd both written to their family and confessed it to their friends, and they'd been dragged back to the ground from the ankles.

 _You've been living in a dream._

It was the same phrase, everyday.

 _You have to wake up._

And as much they had persisted, time was against them.  
That was his final year at the school, she had one more to overcome and yet.. she felt that everything would have been over with his departure: she would have never seen him again. That was the last year for all intents and purposes. She would have become one of the ghost of the castle, a living body with a dead soul. Oh, no.. she never would have been able to face her last year, knowing he wouldn't have been there, waiting for her.  
She didn't have any purpose now. Not joy for the summer, not joy for her return, in Semptember, for her seventh year.  
How could she possibly hope for a better future?  
What kept her going? That was the last year with him.  
And as if that wasn't terrible enough, the last year soon became the last month, and the last week and now.. it was the last day.

And there she was, packing up her things into her cases, far from being ready to come home.

"I know it's hard, Cora." she felt the mattress bouncing under the new weight it had welcomed. "It wouldn't be easy anyway. You have to say him goodbye."

She hugged Phyllis, dear best friend Phyllis who always tried to cheer her up.

She was right. Cora knew she was right and yet she wasn't able to accept the harsh reality: a future without him.. it felt like all her dreams had been torn apart.

* * *

He sighed, grasping his fingers onto the handle of his suitcase until his knuckles went white. Minutes were passing by awfully slow.  
And he was glad, on one hand, because his time in that school was being protracted and yet, on the other hand, it increased the risk of meeting her.

What the bloody hell was he talking about? Was he scared of her? Was he scared by his own feelings?  
Truth was, he loved her, too much to break her heart.

Maybe it was a one-way feeling. Maybe she didn't love him back.. how could she? She was too good for him.  
So kind, so compassionate, so sweet and graceful. No, he couldn't think about that, not now: perhaps those were the things he loved most.

Since the first time he laid his eyes on her. How little and shy was she back then.. it was a memory he cherished in his heart, carved into his mind as if it happened a moment ago.

He was a second year Ravenclaw, thinking about how excited was sitting on that stool, in front of hundreds of kids of every age, with the sorting hat on the head, waiting for the verdict, your life about to change forever.  
And suddenly there she was: a little girl so tall for her age, dark curls flapping on her back and her shoulders and when she turned.. when she turned, two eyes as blue as the bluest sky pierced his very soul. They were sparkling like diamonds.  
' _Ravenclaw_ ' he'd thought, he'd pleaded ' _Ravenclaw_ ', but she was a Hufflepuff and he lost any contact with the girl, for years.  
Until the end of his sixth year, when he met her during the train ride back home. He bought her two pumpkin juice for her and her friend. She thanked him and her voice stole his heart, just like that. The rest was History.

Robert shook his head slowly. Fool, fool.  
How could he ever been scared by love? By that angel girl he was about to leave behind? How could he ever give up his chance of happiness?

No, no. That was it. That was why he had never met her during the day, avoiding the farewell salutes.. because he didn't want to part from her, he didn't want to make it real.

No, no. He could have never lived without her by his side.  
Screw his friends, screw his family. He wanted her, he needed her and he would have married her.

So Robert tripped his case in the middle of the grass, deaf to all John's calling, and turned himself to the castle, heading to the Hufflepuff basement, determined to find her.. but he didn't have to strive much.

She was there, standing few metres away, her beautiful sapphire eyes glassy and watery.  
Oh he _was_ a fool. What did she think of him? How horrible the thought of becoming the worst creature on Earth in her eyes, the worst monster of all.  
How could he ever explain to her? Foolishness and fear had taken advantage of him.

"You didn't even say goodbye," she sobbed. "We could never see each other again and- you didn't even say goodbye." She was right. She was damn right. But no, he couldn't let a misstep ruin his life, his future.. _their_ lives, _their_ future.

He loved her. He loved her dearly. And deep in his heart he knew she felt the same for him. She wouldn't have been there, otherwise, she wouldn't have been crying. She _had_ to love him back. He begged it was so.

Thus Robert decided to tell her the truth and begged again, for their hearts to finally find their shared beat, for their hearts to understand, forgive, love.

He stepped nearer, took her tiny, cold hands in his to draw them to his lips, kissing the reddened skin of her knuckles.

Goodbye, goodbye, was it a goodbye?  
No, he would have make it a beginning, theirs.

"I didn't say goodbye because I've never had any intentions of leaving."


	4. Tickle (Modern AU)

**Back to the prompts of Lovehandleslithium ( _breesecretdaughter_ ), I decided to go with a little Cobert Modern AU. The word I chose this time is "Tickle".  
Also _witchoesed_ told my during a breif chat she likes those kind of things so it's for her too :)**

 **Modern AU / 630 words**

* * *

That man again. How much she hated him.

He came everyday at the same hour, five o'clock on the dot, he sat on the same table near the window, ordering a cup of tea, hot and steaming.  
Just so she had to tell him to wait, because they hadn't any ready at the moment, because the boss wanted all the pitchers to be filled with coffee and nothing else.  
So he complained with her, for entire minutes that looked like hours.

Today she imagined nothing different.  
 _'There he comes.'_ She muttered to herself, clasping the notebook from her crimson apron pocket and walked very slowly toward the table he'd settled down.  
She hated him. He was so snob, so clumsy and his way of speaking- before him she thought she loved the British accent, but now..- he was so demanding, so insufferable- so.. so _handsome_.

Just by the sight of the nape of his neck she could feel the annoyed pricking inside her chest. She didn't want to face him, she didn't want to argue, to smile politely at those light blue eyes while her mind screamed _'punch him in the nose'_.

"Hello sir." her voice squeaked a little in her attempt of sounding sweet and nice as she was supposed to be. "What can I bring you?"

"A cup of coffee, please. Small." he was smiling. She sighed automatically.

"Sorry sir, we don't have-" her blue eyes stared at him blankly "Coffee?" she waited for his solitary nod "Right away, sir." she couldn't believe her ears. No troubles, no squabbling, no praises to England, no tea.. She never had been so happy over a cup of coffee.

She made her way back with the tray on her hand after a couple of minute, placing the mug in front of him; but just when she was about to turn herself, she felt his fingers grasping her wrist.

"I've been a dork, haven't I?" his sorry wince was so funny "Can't deal very well with my- my feelings."

"Brits." again that prickling in her chest, lower this time, at the sight of his hand on her skin. He seemed to notice and released her immediately.

"Yes." his cheeks blushed into a bright shade of pink. "I- I came here everyday to.."

"Tease me." she interrupted, her hand went to rest on her hip.

"Yes- no. No." he paused and sighed "Not in the bad way." prickling.

Handsome, goofy, funny.

"Ah." she was smiling now, actually she was showing him her best smile. And he did the same.

Handsome.

"I wanted to ask you out, sometimes." he lowered his eyes to her name badge, like he did hundreds of time. "Cora." how lovely her name was from his lips.

And with that she realized that the prickling was in fact a soft tickle, down, in her stomach. The tickle of the unknown, the tickle of curiosity, perhaps even the tickle of attraction. Him, that unbearable British lord who paid his 5 dollars bills with his credit card and signed with elegant hand his name with loopy initials _'Robert Crawley'_ \- she'd stared at that signature so many times, finding it fancy and classy; and her, the mediocre waitress with the yellow uniform and red apron.

Who'd have thought that?  
Her stomach, apparently, her mind. The tickle in her chest, the same tickle she felt when that something was going right.

"Perhaps." she sighed, with a little shrug of shoulders.

She left the table, smiling to herself, more at every step she made. It was indeed the unknown, it was curiosity, it was attraction.. even excitement. That was it. Something _was_ going right, then. But that time, it wasn't just in her chest, or in her stomach or in her heart. This time it was in her whole body.. the tickle.


	5. Isn't it romantic?

**Prompt: "Isn't it romantic?" + bridge.  
Given by my lovely fiancé, to whom I dedicate this.**

 **Missing Moments / 993 words**

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ISN'T IT ROMANTIC?

It was a lovely way to spend their anniversary: one week at London, of freedom, for them, unleashed by the estate duties and for their two lovely daughters too, released from the grasp of nanny.

Just like that, days had passed through, with never ending picnics or visiting the museum, or multiple trips to the shops for the Crawley ladies which, reluctantly, he had to confess finding them quite entraining. Yet the harsh reality stroke back like a bolt from the blue, reminding them that, within few hours, the last train departing from the station would have take them back to Yorkshire, to Downton, to their routine; as much they missed their home, they wished for that time to last forever.

"What shall we do on our last day?" Robert tapped softly on her hand, firmly hold on his arm, to draw her attention to him. He didn't want to distract her from her thoughts, which seemed very intense from her expression, in fact he was staring at her in admiration from quite a long time: her pale skin was shining at the sunbeams and her blue eyes were sparkling like stars, and of course the placid waters of the Thames, beneath the Waterloo Bridge on which they were walking, helped quite a lot. She looked so happy on that bridge, it was their favourite, it gave her a special halo, it made her more stunning that the usual, if that was possible. Robert _had_ to call her, he had to see those eyes, to have those pearls just for him.

"I really don't know." she sighed sadly, though a soft smile curled her lips "I'd like to do so much but.. there's no time." she paused, her eyes ran for a moment to their daughters, who were running after some pigeons nearby "I think I just want to stay here with the girls, doing nothing special but enjoying this afternoon."

"That sounds so lovely, my dear." he smiled at her before increasing a little their speed to catch up with the little ones of the family.

"Mama, mama!" the three years old, the youngest, ran toward them, hiding between Cora's skirts, grabbing hard the fabric as she sobbed.

"My dear, what happened?" Robert's eyes immediately flew to their other daughter Mary, of four, swinging on her feet with the most fake innocent face he'd ever seen.

"She pulled my hair!" Edith wined loudly.

"I did not!" came right after the cry of Mary.

Cora bent down, wiping the tears away with her thumbs.

"You two are making a scene in the middle of the road." she stated politely. It was far worst than a scolding in a loud voice, which caused Edith's sobs to stop at once and Mary to step nearer ready to give her apologies "Now, is that the behaviours of two ladies?" she inquired without looking at them, while her fingers worked quickly to comb the golden locks of the youngest in a tight braid.

They both shook their head before sang their apologies to both of their parents.  
Robert and Cora shared a proud look.

"You did a good job." commented Robert, hardly suppressing a laugh "We could definitely allow ourself a goodbye ice cream." he tilted his head to gain his wife's approval, which she gave, after moments of terrible waiting and loud pleads.

So now they were enjoying the sun, eating ice cream, watching their children run and play with the pigeons with their pretty dress soiled with chocolate and dust, thinking of how beautiful they all were.

"Robert?" she was bent on the stone railing, watching some little boats disappearing under the arches of the bridge. She seemed focused and he took advantage to get nearer her, placing his hands on the stone at her sides, so she was trapped.

"Yes?" when she turned, she yelped, surprised of having him so close. Robert giggled for her expression.

"I'm with child." said Cora defiantly. He stared at her blankly. That was her turn to giggle.

"W-what?" his tone was a perfect mixture of shock and happiness. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise for our last day." she slapped playfully his arm "I took a vanilla ice cream!" she said the phrase like it would have explained everything. "But you're such a dork and you didn't notice." she crossed her arms on her chest, simulating her anger.  
Oh yes, he did get it now: she'd always hated vanilla. Her hate for vanilla in all of its forms was well known in all the house, a part of course when she was expecting. Then, she became the world's most voracious person, always craving for it.

He smiled so widely that her fake pout became a joyful laugh within a moment.

"Are you happy?" she enquired the obvious, but she didn't care. Cora wanted to hear him, hear his voice, his words, even his mumbling.

Robert held her strong and carefully, lifting her slim body until her feet only brushed the ground.

"I'm so very happy, my darling." he answered, kissing her deeply despite being in the middle of a public area. 'Inappropriate', now, wasn't a word of their vocabulary.

And suddenly there it was: the perfect day. With the sun dying and London on the background, and its sounds, the rush of the Thames, their girls laughing nearby, with the pigeons flying; with their love almost bursting in their chests and a promise of a new life in their hearts.

"Darling? Isn't it romantic?" sweet voice of Cora, how gentle and lovely.

"Very much so." he whispered in her ear.

Not the pitchy serenades, not the flowers at Valentine's day, not the candlelit dinners, not the gifts during festivities, not the dances when no music was playing.. not _only_ those.  
Romantic was them, together with their little girls. Romantic was the family, romantic was its growth.  
Romantic, yes, that was romantic indeed.


	6. Midnight - on the bridge - Come alone

**the-erudite-mockingjay and Mr/Ms Anon on my tumblr requested _"Midnight, on the bridge. Come alone."_ from a list of dialogue lines I posted. _  
_**

 **Thank you both so much, my friends!**

 **So yes this is a "T" I couldn't think of anything different for Robert, Cora and this phrase. I hope you don't mind :P Let's have some terrific fun!**

 **Missing Moment ( 16th February 1923 ) - 1285 words**

* * *

Cora was pacing in her room from quite some time now. She feared she might had left track of her feet around the bed, on the carpet, and her fingers played nervously with the red ribbon on the top of the little box she held.

Where did he go? ' _Five minutes_ ' he'd said ' _Five minutes and I'll join you in our room for our gifts exchange_ '. Like every year. Indeed there she was, waiting for him, while the clock ran on, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes..  
She was about to leave the room, sneaking into the corridor or searching for him in the library and it was then when she found a little note on the bedside table, carefully leant on the bottom of the lamp; it was Robert's loopy and classy handwriting. It said _"Midnight, on the bridge. Come alone."_ that was mysterious. Unexpected.. and exciting. And she was late.

Cora folded up the note, then she put it in the pocket of her brown coat which she wore with no hesitation. She walked carefully until the lowest floor, like a thief in her own house, and she successfully sneaked out from the servant's door, which was unexpectedly open.

She was about to meet her beloved husband on the sly, surely in their private place outside the estate, and she felt like a young girl again when she sneaked out from her room to meet Robert, during her first time in England.

It wasn't a very cold night after all, and her blood, running wild through her body due to curiosity and trepidation, kept her body warm and active.

It didn't take long to reach the place of the meeting; after all, they'd met there hundreds of time during the years and often their daily strolls took them there, to admire the flowers, the view, the placid waters of the small lake and the little golden fishes swimming around and to tell each other stories, actually memories, linked to the small shelter nearby.

Even at night, she found that place enchanting: the little wooden bridge over the lake, the trees all around and the manor behind, and the moon, of course, queen of the sky, brightening everything with its silver light. It all seemed like magic.

"You like it?" she jerked awkwardly when Robert place both of his hands on her hips, whispering on her neck. Cora heard him chuckle behind her.

"Very much." a peal of a laughter appeared on her lips "But you don't have to scare me." she complained, turning into his embrace so she could put her arms around his neck.

"It's tradition, my dear." he stated with a little smile on his lips. That was true: it was tradition to get a fright.. and Robert succeeded every time. "Is that for me?" Robert extended fast his arms, a childish expression painted on his face when Cora held the box up and then stretched her arm as much as she could behind her back, so the gift would have been out of reach for him.

"Not just yet. You need to make me forgive you." she said and Robert whined loud, curling his lips to show her his intent of giving her a kiss.

She giggled amused, unable to escape his hold and his peck, which crushed on her tight lips a second later, soon becoming a proper kiss, which she returned gladly not before long. Their body got closer, their hold stronger.

"Ah!" he sang victoriously: he'd taken advantage of her distraction to reach for his present.

"That's not fair! Robert!" she complained, stomping her feet on the cold grass.

He wasn't pay much attention to her, too busy unwrapping his present. Soon enough the ribbon and the paper fell on the ground.

"My darling, is beautiful!" Cora was beyond faking her anger or feeling offended and she suddenly stepped closer to him, urging to open the golden pocket-watch she gave him. When he pushed the little button on the side, it disclosed with a gentle click, revealing an elegant incision which said ' _I will love you until the end of time._ '

"I love you, darling."

"I love you so.." Robert voice cracked a little. Cora chuckled triumphant, kissing him dearly as soon as he bent down to reach for her lips. "Now." he smiled "Your turn."

He pulled his wife from her wrist, making her close her eyes, and after a little random walk with the only purpose of making her losing her orientation, he brought Cora to the shelter, which he'd arranged with a big crackling fire, blankets, pillows and a bottle champagne with two glasses.

"Can I look?"

"You can." with his ever-warm hands on her shoulders, Cora admired the place, so small, so comfortable, so intimate and romantic. "Happy anniversary, my dearest love." she didn't have even the time to realize that Robert placed a sapphires bracelet on her wrist.

"Oh Robert.." she was speechless, happy and so thrilled to cuddle with her husband before the fire, enjoying those moments of absolute peace, just the two of them.

So they there were, not long after, with their coats piled up beside them, her back leant on his chest, rocked by his calm breath and his warm embrace.

"I brought you here on our first anniversary, remember?" she smiled at the memory.

"Of course I remember. It was the first time you said you loved me. Fully. With all the three words." she giggled.

"Oh not that long.." he complained, doubtful, striving to remember a previous time but he couldn't.

"It's everything like that time. Even this blanket is the same." she caressed the fabric with her fingers before placing her hands on his chest and her cheek on his shoulder. The fire was so relaxing, his scent so intoxicating, his hold so welcoming.

"Not everything." he teased, waiting for her to raise her chin so she could silently ask him what was missing "If I remember correctly, we.."

"We can't!" her learnt English accent burst out in all its glory.

"But we most certainly _can_." for a long moment, only the fire crackling was the soft noise they could hear.

"You are an incorrigible man." she smiled mischievously.

"How could I not be? With the most beautiful wife on earth between my arms?"

And just like that, his lips were on hers, hungry for her taste, thirsty of emotions, greedy for love, passion, desire. And then suddenly their hands took life of their own, unbuttoning, ripping, getting rid of layers, fabrics, belts, until they found each other with nothing more than the other's skin to cover one's body.

They needed each other's touches, kisses, warmth and that was exactly what they had.

Soon he found Cora dug into his arms, her soft chest against his, her back hot due to the fire and his hands collecting all her shivers, bringing her closer to him, further and further, until they had no other choose but connecting, her knees brushing at both sides of his hips. Their releases came short after, an increasing passion and desire bringing the both of them on the edge of a cliff, the taste of the sweet pain of the fall still on their lips, slowly smothering with every panting breath.

Robert could only see the glimmer of her eyes, superior even to the sparkle of the little blue stones of her bracelet, the only item still adorning her skin.

She was beautiful, the most beautiful. More than the stars, more than the moon, more than that very night. She was beautiful, she was everything and she was his; like he was hers, forever, until the end of time.

"Happy anniversary, my darling."


	7. She was unconscious when I found her

**Mr./Ms. Anon asked on tumblr: 24 "** (He) _ **She was unconscious when I found** (_him) ** _her_ "**

 **Lo let's try something about the pre-series younger Cobert. This goes with '** ** _glow_** **' (chapter 2) and it's set at the end of the Second** **Boer War.  
Hope you like it!**

 **Missing Moment (Middle May 1902) – 1280 words**

* * *

"Cora!" Rosamund didn't think twice before kneeling down beside the fragile figure of her sister-in-law, unceremoniously laying on the carpet's library, pale and worn out. "Carson, what happened?" she didn't dare to move her, afraid she could have caused some more damages. She fixed her piercing eyes on the butler, his impeccable behaviour now totally lost.

"I don't know, Milady." he paused "She was unconscious when I found her and- and I sent the coachman to the Hospital to find the doctor and then I called for you-" he drew a sharp breath.

"Good. Carson, please fetch me some cold water and a towel."

"At once, Milady." Rosamund tried to smooth her nerve with long breaths.  
It was then when she saw the small envelope Cora was holding with her right hand: a letter. A letter from South Africa.

 _My dear Lady Grantham,  
We regret to inform you that the bravery of the Lieutenant Robert P. Crawley led to his premature decease on April 28_ _th_ _1902…_

* * *

Four years. Four years of burning hell, of deafening bombs, frightening silent nights and scarier loud days; four years of dust, sweat, smell of blood and black powder, of yelling and runs and cries and dreams about home, peace, loving arms and safeness.  
Four years of war. Now he was coming home.  
With Cora's portrait in his hands, he was coming home. Home, finally.

He was coming back to his lovely wife, his children, Mary and Edith – two young ladies now – and little Sybil, tiny Sybil, so young when he left, he wandered if she would have even remembered his face.

His fingers went on his scratchy skin, rough from his beard and from the sun, he knew his family would have looked so much paler than him, now. He smiled.

And he laughed when Downton Abbey, with its yellow facades, appeared beyond the gates, magnificent and severe from the high spires. The smell of grass and the oak forest so familiar to him, so intoxicating, the smell of home, which he learnt to recognise since childhood. Home, home.

He almost flew off the car, his jacket on his arm, his hat on his head. He wasn't expecting the whole family to greet him, in fact he'd planned a surprise, mainly to have a proper reunion with his Cora, who had been his glow for so much time, his hope, his moon, his guidance; he wanted a moment, even few seconds just with her, and he wanted to be the firsts moments home. Just her, just them. No ceremonies, no familiars, just his wife.

He was surprised, though, by the absence of Mr. Carson at the front door, looking with a scowl to the unidentified car which was approaching to the manor. Robert didn't wish for a line of servants and relatives, but he did hope for his old butler's presence.. at least for the luggages.

Robert waited patiently for his case, paid the taxi and lifted his dubious eyes toward the dark front door, silently and firmly shut closed. It was just impossible that no one had heard him arrive.

He pulled the chain and listened carefully to the soft sound he produced, curving his lips into a disappointment face when one of the younger footman opened the door.

"Milord?!" he was shocked to find him there and fussed to opening the entrance completely.

"Yes, that's me." he stated proudly, striving to maintain his composure, too happy to see his home, the hall, to smell the familiar scent, the stairs, the pictures.. "Where's everybody?"

"Milord.."

"You look like you've seen a ghost!" he chuckled, patting his shoulder while passing him by. What time was it? Surely the girls were in the nursery which meant that Cora was either in the library or in the sitting room.

" _Please Cora!_ " ah! The library. Robert didn't mind, at first, the utter concerned voice of his sister, but he had to when, entering the room, his eyes laid on the scene before him: his sister sitting on the carpet, near Cora, who was also on the ground, unconscious, with her dark curls scattered around her face.

"What's going on here?" Rosamund turned sharply to him, freezing on the spot with a damp towel in the mid-air.

"Robert?" he wasn't listening, too much concerned for his wife's health. She looked so much paler than the last time he saw her, her lips were much thinner and pallid, her neck so slim, her chest and arms so skinny. "Why on earth does everyone look like they've seen a ghost?"

He was surprised, so surprised when Rosamund hugged him, strong, like they were kids.

"You're alive!"

"I am very much alive!" he stated louder, glancing in shock his sister. Rosamund showed him the paper and everything became crystal clear.

His wife, his poor fragile wife, after months, _years_ of agonizing misery, fear, waiting had received the false news of her husband's death. He would have most certainly died if the table were turned. "It's all right, Rosie." he briefly smoothed his sister cries before scooping his wife into his arms, reassuring the woman that everything was going to be fine from that moment on.

"The doctor's arriving." Rosamund sniffed.

"Go host him. I'll take her in her room."

* * *

Warm tears rolled down his cheeks. He was happy, so happy and yet concerned for his wife. How he longed for her eyes to be open, to see those blue diamonds sparkling in front of him, like the ocean surface under the summer's sun, how he longed for her voice, sweet and gentle, so reassuring with the melody which reminded him of home, how he longed for her lips, so soft and welcoming.

"Oh Cora.." a sharp breath escaped his lips. His hand squeezed hers, cold and tiny , more like a child's one, into his palm. She'd suffered, she'd suffered as much as him.. his fragile, young Cora seemed she aged soon and quickly during his absence, pale and thin.. maybe the tired look on his wife was the same he carried. Yet she was so beautiful, even in her sleep, like always, exactly how he imagined her during all his nights, sleeping beside him, her breath caressing his face through the heat.  
His beauty. His sleeping beauty.

He brushed his knuckles against her cheek, fearing his raspy fingers could have hurt her and soon he realized he couldn't wait any longer: he kissed her. He kissed her dearly, devotedly, tenderly.  
His tears reached her face.

"Cora," he breathed out, sitting on the edge of his seat when her lids trembled "Wake up, my dearest darling." he squeezed her hand again, getting closer and closer when she began to turn her head slightly on the pillow. "It's me."

Robert held his breath when she blinked her eyes, smiling when the familiar colour, yet so special and unique, found his light blue eyes, watery and red from the long sobbing.

"Robert-" Cora's voice died into her throat. She shot herself up, throwing her body into his embrace, strong, firm, warm, with the scent of home, real _home_ , once again. "You're alive."

"I am." he caressed her hair, rubbing her back to smooth her endless cries "It's over now. I got lost into the enemy territory but I found my way back. I guess they thought I was dead but- I found my way home." he hesitantly parted from her, cupping her face with his hand, wiping away her tears with his thumbs "I had to come back to you." he kissed her forehead, finding himself once again with his wife between his arms. The most beautiful sensation in the world.  
Home, home.


	8. If only

**ermindax on tumblr asked " _If only I'd just gone over when she called_." from a prompt dialogue-lines list I posted. Thank you my friend!** _ **  
**_

 **A little Cobert drama, set during 2x08 – Robert pov.  
**

 **Missing Moments / 707 words**

* * *

"If only I'd just gone over when she called." he cried desperately, his voice partially muffled by his own hands, hardly pressed on his face.

"You didn't know, papa." Sybil tried to console him, rubbing his back with her free hand.

"But I did know. I though she wanted to talk about you and I didn't want to get angry at her because she wasn't feeling well and I didn't want her to get tired and I neglected her and now- now it's too late." the girl swallowed hard, fighting back the tears, digging her nails into the towel she was holding.

"Mama will be fine." she stated; yet, Sybil was the first one who feared for mother's life.

* * *

" _How are you feeling?" he shyly peeked from his dressing room into hers, following with his eyes as O'Brien left the room with a tray._

" _Better." breathed out Cora. He knew she was lying._

 _Robert entered slowly the room, sat on the edge of the bed on her side and adjusted the covers._

" _Why didn't you drink it?" he enquired severely, lifting the glass she had at the bedside table, halfway empty "You were supposed to finished it." he caressed her hand, noticing her warmth._

" _With all the respect for Dr. Clarkson, I don't think hot milk and cinnamon will help me- I feel worse even at the thought. Beside, I'm not feeling too bad." another lie._

" _You need to rest now." he smiled tenderly at her, ready to kiss her forehead to wish her a good night, but Cora spoke out of the blue._

" _Please don't push Sybil away." her soft whisper seemed a pledge._

" _Cora, I don't believe this is the time-"_

" _Please Robert. The thought of loosing her will haunt me down. Promise me you'll be good with her." her squeeze on his hand was so weak and yet so strong. She was begging, with her tired eyes and her sharp breath.. it was more than his enamoured heart could have born._

" _I don't want to discuss this matter now. You're not thinking straight. We might take the wrong position." he paused "Please try to sleep. Rest. Tomorrow when you're well, we'll talk with her." Cora parted her lips to speak further but this time he was quicker: he bent down to kiss her hair, switched off her lamp and walked fast to his dressing room._

 _His eyes were fixed on his book from at least fifteen minutes. He wasn't reading. His mind was too busy with its rush from the happenings of the day: Sybil, the spanish flu in the house, Cora's pledges, his ineptitude before the life's trials._

" _Robert." he raised his drowsy eyes, tilting his head toward the door. He knew that voice of Cora, he knew she was going to talk endlessly about Sybil, neglecting her health, her needed rest, and she would have succeeded, obtaining anything she wished, because seeing his wife in that state melted his heart. He couldn't. He couldn't' let that happen._

" _Tomorrow, my dear." he said loud, trying not to sound too imperious "Please. I want you to rest now."_

 _Silence._

 _Did he made her angry? Did he made her sad? Did he increased her fears and worries? Would she have been able to sleep?_

" _Goodnight!" he tried, hoping for an answer. "Darling, answer me." he put his feet on the carpet, curling his toes into his carpet slippers, ready to go check on her if the silence had persisted. It did not._

 _Robert heard something worst than the silence: the sharp noise of glass breaking._

 _So he ran immediately in Cora's room, turned on the light, just to find her unconscious, her arm stretched toward the bedside table, unceremoniously lying on the wood, her hand hanging in the air, the milk scattered on the carpet._

" _Cora, Cora!"  
_

* * *

And with that his nightmare had began.  
The rush to call back the doctor, Sybil in her nurse uniform, the maids running up and down the stairs with towels and water, now cold, now hot.  
All that while he was standing there, in a corner of his dressing room, his ears tense, susceptible to every noise, his heart racing, in pain, full of guilt and sorrow.  
If only the flu had taken him and not her. If only he had listened to her without making her agitate. If only he'd stayed with her all night. If only he'd said he loved her. If only he'd just gone over when she called...


	9. Dress

**this is for withoesed who requested a fluffy drabble :)**  
 **I've already posted of tumblr not long ago and I decided to add it to the collection.**

 **Anonymous asked " _Give me one good reason why I should wear a dress."_**

 **Missing moments [497 words]**

* * *

" _Give me one good reason why I should wear a dress."_ he was looking at his wife with his arms crossed and his eyebrows farrowed "One." he repeated. "Just give me one."

Cora wasn't paying much attention to Robert, too busy with her maids collecting some rags and old-fashioned dresses. She was measuring one on herself, checking the length of the skirt and after a dense chat with her maid, she nodded her approval.

"Mary." she stated absent-mindedly "It's her birthday, Robert." she kept rushing across the room, trying a big straw hat on.

Robert groaned to show his disapproval.

"I still don't get why I should ridicule myself." he rolled his eyes. Cora stopped her rush in front of him, giving her husband a fake offended glance.

"Isn't your first-born a good reason?" she enquired, putting the hat on his head, which he thrown off at once on the arm chair.

"Cora I-"

"Beside," she'd returned to her closet and she was pulling out more clothes, all in different colours "I don't see why it's different from that skirt you wear in Scotland." she teased.

"That is not a _skirt_ , that's a kilt!" he protested loudly, smoothing his impeccable white, silky shirt with his hands, like she'd just said something regrettable about the king himself "It's a centuries-old tradition of- well, It's _totally_ different, Cora!"

"Why?" she asked innocently "And then, is there a more worthy cause than your daughter?" he muttered annoyed in response. "It'll be fun." she was using her seductive voice, well knowing he couldn't resist her longer.

"Well.." he said, just above whisper. In his voice was already alive the glow of yielding.

"Mary wants us to. Please." her lips were so close to his "You, me, Rosamund.. even Marmaduke agreed."

"I don't care what Marmaduke does." his voice was flat yet Cora knew he was only beating around the bush before giving his approval.

"Our girl, who turns nine today, wants us to play her favourite part from _Little Women._ The four of us. She wants you to play Josephine, she's even named after that character.. you should be honoured!" her lips gifted him with the most precious smile.

"Let's guess who's fault is that!" he chuckled a little, dragging Cora with him shortly after.

"So, will you do that?" she asked him hopefully. How could he say no to that face?

"All-right, all-right. I'll do it." he sighed a last "But only for Mary.. and for you." Cora clapped her hands in victory before hugging him and kissing his cheek.

"Terrific!" she exclaimed "I'll tell Rosamund to bring your dress." she rushed toward the door "I love you so!"

He wanted answering so much with the same words, but she was already gone when he began to part his lips. 'His dress'.. was already done. She knew he would agreed from the beginning. _Oh, Cora._ He smiled fondly and amused before beginning to get ready for the upcoming, private show.


	10. Too good

**"You're too good for this world."**

 **Cobert, missing moment [2x04], 500 words**

* * *

Cora dragged herself on the stairs toward her room. With her stomach finally full, she decided to have an early night and leave her family to their talks alone.  
She felt awfully tired and yet she was happy like she hadn't been happy in months, maybe in years.  
She prayed for her maid to be quick in changing her clothes and she dismissed her right away as soon as she wore she nightgown; well, after all, she must have been tired too.

As soon as her head touched the soft pillow, her eyes immediately dropped.  
The darkness and the silence of her room wrapped her body into a blissful sensation; and yet, despite her tiredness and her great desire to sleep, she couldn't, for her mind was too busy reminding her all the happenings of the day, the smells and the kind words said spinning in her head, keeping her awake when she wanted so desperately just to sleep.  
Cora sighed frustrated, rolling to one side, listening to the soft murmurs coming from downstairs. It was peaceful and quite relaxing.. and it wasn't enough.

Suddenly, her narrowed eyes caught the light under the door moving, steps approaching, heavy, slightly drawn on the carpet. Robert's.  
She smiled when the door moved ajar and her husband peeked from the corridor into her room.

"Cora, are you asleep?" he enquire just above breath.

Cora saw his eyes fussing around the room, still not used to the darkness, adjusting slowly.  
"No, I can't." she answered with the same tone, not entirely sure why "Come in."

"I was afraid you didn't feel well." he continued, approaching the bed and switching on the lamp before sitting on the mattress, on his side, stretched toward her with his weight on his left elbow.

"Don't worry Robert, I'm just tired." she answered as her fingers went to brush his.

"You're doing too much." he stated severely and yet a tender smile curved his lips "Also, where have you been this afternoon?"

Cora bit her bottom lip.  
"At Isobel's" she cleared her throat "We.. give some food to the soldiers who can't afford it."

"You do _what_?" Robert's jaw dropped in surprise.

"They served the country, Robert. Mrs Bird and Mrs Patmore feed those men, and I want to help them. They're a lot, you know.."

"Cora.." he sighed, shaking his head "I think that's lovely of you, but you're doing too much-"

"Doing what, Robert?" she tilted her head to one side "Hosting? Supervising? In this way I can help for real."

Robert stared at his wife for a long moment before kissing dearly her forehead.  
"If this makes you happy.."

"It does."

Cora always had been a compassionate one, always putting the other's interest and health before her own. She couldn't help herself; her soul was kind and pure, just like the colour of her eyes and he loved her for everything she was.

He sighed, giving her a loving smile.  
"You're too good for this world."


	11. First word

First Word

Cora walked silently up the stairs, looking behind every two steps to make sure she had gone unseen by everyone, but especially from Robert.

It was a fine party, she enjoyed herself and she quite liked the talks with her friends after all those months of isolation she had to go through.  
Yes, not hiring a nanny before her girl had reached the year had been her choice, still a few hours alone while she was sleeping seemed heaven to her.  
Few hours, now it clearly had been too much.  
She wanted to check on her and above all, since she was used to have Mary around all day, it was perfectly normal, she thought, to miss her.  
And of course, if she was awake, she could have played with her a little or just watch her as she rested in her crib, simply staring at the ceiling smiling contently.

She could've also practise with her a little more.

It had been a month since the baby started to articulate some meaningless syllables, yet she seemed so very ready to speak her first word and both Robert and Cora noticed her effort every time she tried to call for them.  
Of course, the battle had started since then: downstairs, the bets were open on which would have been Lady Mary's first word, "mama" or "papa".

Cora and Robert were both strongly willed to win, and every spare hour was spent in the nursery, with the baby in their laps, repeating those words over and over again until the baby started to cry or claimed to be fed.  
At the end, they agreed on spending an equal amount of time with their daughter, so they both could've a chance of being the first word of the baby.

Cora approached the door, pushing it ajar and peeking inside, careful not to wake her up in case she was asleep. Soon some giggling and a well-known voice making horse sounds reached her ears and she stepped in, hand on her hips.

"You're cheating!" she whined, striving not to smile at that sweet vision of her husband playing with her daughter, who was gleefully bouncing on his knee.

"I was worried about her!" Robert cuddled Mary, unable to cover his guilty expression on his face.

"You were trying to get her say 'papa'." she complained, approaching the two of them and kissing her daughter's soft hair.

"I was not." Robert lied "But I feel she's about to." he said excitedly.

"How many times did you sneak in without my knowledge?" she asked in shock.

Robert chuckled at the angry face of his wife, standing up so he could raise her up above his head. Mary laughed happily.  
"Don't be angry with me." he cooed, kissing Cora's cheek. "She loves her _papa_." he said, emphasising the last word intentionally.

"She loves her _mama_ too, very much." Cora stood beside him, tickling the baby's rounded belly with her finger "You love your _mama_ , don't you?"

"You said 'mama' twice. That's not fair!" Robert frowned.

"Well, it's three times with yours." she giggled "Mary say 'mama'." she encouraged, but right before he could've complained more, the vanilla Labrador came into the nursery, barking and jumping at the sight of the baby awake, like she always did, its tail wagging vigorously.

" _Ne-net!_ " the baby yelled happily.  
The dog barked again in response.

Robert looked suspiciously in her eyes as she waggled her legs in the air, giggling merrily as she stretched her chubby arms to the dog, which begun to jump and yelp playfully as the baby called its name again.

Cora and Robert shared a horrified glance.

"That doesn't count." said Cora with a wince and a shrug of shoulders, her voice completely flat.

"Yeah, that doesn't count." nodded Robert with the same expression.  
Was the battle still on?

* * *

 **Imagine your OTP competing to get their baby to say "mama" or "dada" first and the baby ends up saying the dog's name instead.**


	12. The Breakfast Trouble (Modern AU)

**Cobert, Modern AU, drabble: 856 words**

The Breakfast Trouble

Robert rubbed his eyes as a large yawn escaped his lips.  
He mindlessly glanced at the other side of his bed, undone, with the sheets full of wrinkles and the coved bent over from the angle.  
Cora must had been awake from a while.

He sighed, his heart full of pride and joy as the memories of their first night, after she moved in, flashing through his mind, giving him the best feeling on earth, as hundreds of butterflies were moving inside his stomach, as his heart could have burst from love.  
He felt like his life was finally settling for good, and with the most wonderful woman he'd ever met.

Robert stretched his limbs with laziness and suddenly his ears were captured by a familiar noise along with a well-known scent. It all came from the kitchen it seemed.  
Was she making breakfast?  
He smiled content, padding barefoot with only his boxers on, a pure sense of enthusiasm spreading through his all body.

"'Morning." she greeted.

Robert stared at her for a long moment. He couldn't believe that that angelic creature was in his kitchen, cooking. She had that beautiful and sweet smile curving her lips, she had her dark curly hair combed in a loosen braid, resting on one shoulder. Her white tank top fitted perfectly on her torso, following her curves like a second skin and her legs were bare.

"Morning." he repeated in awe.  
The morning light, coming from the french door, gave her a special halo, making her sapphire blue eyes sparling like diamonds.

"I made you breakfast." she stated, settling the last plates on the table.  
She approached him and kissed him on the lips.

He found her cuter since she had to raise on her toes to reach his mouth.  
Robert smiled tenderly back at her.

"It smells lovely." he commented, letting her pull him toward the chair.

"I didn't know what you like. So I cooked _everything_." she chewed his bottom lips, her cheeks went slightly red.

"I shall eat everything then." he chuckled, not at all bothered.

Cora smiled happily, shifting down in her chair, putting her feet up on the seat as she watched him eating pancakes with tea.  
She then grabbed her pink bowl full of lucky charms cereals and began to add milk and ice.  
She was about to eat her first spoon when she noticed Robert stared at her in horror.

"What?" she asked in panic, afraid she might had spilled something on her tank top or maybe that a disgusting bug had fallen in her bowl "What?" her eyes rushed everywhere.

"What hare you doing?" he enquired, his bite swelling his right cheek.

"What?!" she said again, louder, completely puzzled. What on earth got into him?

"With.. your.. _Ice_?" his index was pointing at her bowl.

"Oh." she sighed in relief. "It's tastier." she stated simply, beginning to eat with an evident crunchy noise.

"I don't see how." he continued blankly.

"I like my milk cold." she went on. "You should try!" her face lightened up.

Robert made a face, shaking his head with determination, yet Cora wasn't about to give up.  
She moved closer to him, with her spoon full of cereals and iced milk in her hand, making a plane noise as she got near to his mouth.

He opened resentfully his lips, beginning to chew with horror and his eyes closed.  
On her chair, Cora, was enjoying the scene sipping innocently from her orange juice glass.

"My brain froze!" he complained loudly and Cora began to laugh uncontrollably.

"You ate it too fast!"

"This is torture!" he brought his hands to his head "I'll leave your American breakfast to you!"

Cora continued to laugh, her arms pressed on her belly.  
"You're so grumpy." she paused, only to get rid of the tears stinging to the corner of her eyes with her fingers.

"You're going to make it up to me!" he stated, gulping down his tea in few seconds.

"No, I won't." she replied, taking deep breaths to regain control of herself.

"Of course you are."

And before she could have even realized it, Robert stood up, trying to catch her, missing her waist by a nose. They ran and laughed for few seconds around the table, before Robert succeeded in grabbing her, pulling from her hips toward his own body, tickling her skin to make her squirm and yelp in the effort of freeing herself from the grip.  
He lifted up to the table with a smooth movement settling himself between her legs as her arms went to rest on his shoulders, tangled around his neck.

"What are your plans?" she enquired with a half smile.

Robert squeezed her body even tighter and his fingers rushed on her skin, from the small of her back to her neck.

"Well, first of all I'd like to-" but he found himself incapable of speaking further, for his mouth was once again full of cereal, milk and ice.  
He forced himself to swallow and, once again, he did it too fast.  
All he could do was whine as her laugh once again filled the room.

"Coraaaaaa"

* * *

 **First morning for your OTP after their moving together.  
Person A stares horrified person B as **he/ **she add ice to** his/ **her cereal.**


	13. Coney Island

Coney Island

"Darling, what about this one?" Robert pointed his finger toward the nearest attraction.  
Cora frowned. She was quite content with her cotton candy, strolling peacefully among the crowd with her husband rather than being jolted around with this or that ride. She agreed only for few just because her grandchildren had pleaded her, but she did not enjoyed herself at all.

"I believe that George would like to go with you." she stated, looking suspiciously at the ferris wheel. "And the girls too."

Robert sighed, slightly disappointed "Darling, what's the point of being in Coney Island if you don't want to go anywhere?"

Cora ate a little more of her cotton candy "The kids are having fun." she stressed out.

" _They_ are definitely having fun." he grunted, raising his head when the rollecroster's car ran upon their hands, spreading cries of fun and fear for a second. "I think Mary waved at us!" he beamed, striving to recognise someone despite the blurred people fading away.

"I don't want to look." she replied, slowly closing her lids and shaking her head. She complained about having the kids on that 'thing' but no one listened to her and went on, and to the first ride came the second and the third and Cora grew nervous as time passed. Robert decided to take a little walk with her, waiting for Mary and Tom and Edith and the children to get bored with the rollecoaster, even if that seemed an impossible idea.

"Cora, darling," he stopped, moving in front of her and looking at his wife with a firm glance "I want you to have some fun."  
She tilted her head skeptically, and when she tried to speak up, he rose his hand, closing his eyes, not wanting to hear a 'no' as an answer. "A quite ride, you and me. Promise?"

Cora sighed dramatically, smiling, nodding to her defeat.

"All-right, Robert Crawley." she took one last bite of her cotton candy and slipped her arm under his "But a very quiet ride. I dare you to find one."

"I've got the perfect one!" he beamed excitedly, pulling her through the crowd; Cora began to giggle behind him, genuinely curious now, imagining all the kinds of dangerous roallercoaster or horror ride he enjoyed so much because she got scared of everything, but instead, he stopped before a mysterious building with two holes, water and a track with boats.

"The Tunnel of Love?" she read astonished, surprised that her husband knew those kind of rides.

"Yes. I saw this before with Marigold wanted to see the swans." he said, stepping nearer with her "I promise it's very quiet. Please?"

Cora sighed again and nodded, now wanting herself to see what was that about.

Robert paid the tickets and helped her in one boat.

"Darling?" Cora beamed happily pointing her index to the number of their boat "Did you see that?"

"Sixteen." he read with a smile, looking utterly satisfied "And you didn't want to come." he teased, spreading his arm so he could embraced her, placing his hand on her hip as the ride started.

Robert started humming the tune they were hearing, while she chuckled at all those statues of chubby angels with arrows and symbols of love all around: hearts, paintings of lovers kissing behind umbrellas, trees, and they both laughed when they saw heart-shaped signs that suggest them to hold or kiss or telling each other silly things every now and then.  
Cora was enjoying very much, completely leant on her husband's side, stroking his hand as he stroked her hip and thigh, lulled by the steady rocking of the boat and the rise and fall of Robert's breath and his scent.

"I love you." she suddenly said and Robert's eyes fussed around, searching for the signed he might had skipped. When he heard Cora's giggles, he realized that it wasn't a sign that inspired her those words.

"I love you too, very much." he replayed right after, brushing his lips on her cheek. "Did you like this ride?" he enquired.

"Oh." she sighed sadly "Is it over, already?"

"Nearly" Robert chuckled "But we can do it again. Would you?"

"Yes please." she said with a soft, pleading voice.

Robert nodded happily, tightening his eyes to read the last label.

"Hold and kiss." he beamed, swiftly throwing himself toward his wife.

Cora blushed violently "But Robert, we will be out of the tunnel, everyone will see us!" she protested, trying to squirm away from his hold.

"Oh, come on!" he begged with his teasing voice, striving to keep her still, to reach her lips for a kiss.

"Robert, stop!" she giggled, leaning slightly out from the boat to escape his long arms, her hand pressed on his chest.

Neither of them noticed that the boat was bouncing a little more than it should have.

Also, neither of them knew that the sing read "hold and kiss" because just right after the end of the tunnel, a highly technological photography machine had been installed to take a picture of all the couple as a souvenir of the ride.

"A little kiss!" Robert begged, curling his lips.

"No!" she giggled again, and in the exact moment in which she pulled away again, the machine trigged, with a loud noise and a tick cloud of white smoke.

They were both taken aback.

And before they could realize, they were struggling to maintain the boat steady enough not to fall into the water.

They failed miserably and the tunnel's door opened just in time to let all the bystanders witness their glorious fall, one for each side of the boat.

"Sybbie darling, you should give Donk a new name." Tom teased, hardly suppress his chuckles. "And Granny too."

It was Marigold, clapping her hands, who answered faster "Duckies!" she cried happily.

"I hold you responsible for this." mumbled Cora, and just when Robert thought she was going to hit him or slap his arm for getting her completely soaked, she almost ran toward him, kissing her husband out of the blue, in font of everyone. "Thank you." she whispered.

Robert laughed, holding her tightly as they stepped out the water, joining their family "Ah, the miracle of the tunnel of love.."

* * *

 **Imagine your otp standing up in the tunnel of love and accidentally flipping the boat over💖 💦**


	14. Promises

Promises

The room was bathed in a soft candlelight and the crackling fire, dancing into the mantel, only added some warmth.

She hated all of that. She hated being ill, she hated feeling miserable, she hated those worried faces and people fussing over her, she hated the doctor who came in and out without real solutions, she hated the distant cries and caring words her daughters whispered into her ears when she well knew, deep inside, that she was _not_ going to be fine, she was _not_ going to heal; she hated that heavy air and weak glow that made her bed look like her _death_ bed.

She didn't want to die and yet she wasn't afraid to embrace death either.

Cora knew that hot milk and cinnamon wouldn't be helpful and still she was striving to swell it, in small sips, just to see a pale shadow of her husband's loving smile, now befogged by a thick shade of concern and fear.

"Better?" he asked, his voice full of hope, as he took the glass from her hand to settle it down on the table, his other hand still clasping carefully the nape of her neck, supporting her head a little higher on the pillow.

"Yes." she lied in a small whisper, barely audible.

Cora closed her eyes, letting her body grow heavier into his arms; she felt so terribly tired and found no reason into fight any longer.

"Are you comfortable enough?" Robert's voice appeared so distant and awry and she struggled to get the meaning of his words with her frowned brows and dry mouth.  
He was adjusting the sheets, the duvet and pillows and still brought no relief to her.

"Yes." she murmured, guessing it was the answer he wanted to hear.

"You'll get better, Cora." he said then, and she felt her fingers tangle onto his, smoothly, naturally, reassuringly.

Cora felt bitter tears stinging her eyes, along with an empty feeling spreading from her stomach to her whole body. Was that the sensation every man and woman about to die felt? How could a person be so sure about her incoming death? Would have it been painful? She would have suffered more? She would have seen all the bad and good happened in her life before drawing her last breath?

She parted her lips, locking her weary blue eyes into his. She didn't see any point in lying further, not to him.

"Robert.." she started, but a violent cough prevented her to speak more.

"You _must_ get better _._ " he firmly stated, sliding his arm under her shoulder to help her up into a sitting position so she could breathe easier. "What shall I do without you?" he whispered, but his voice cracked, and a muffled sob escaped his lips.

Cora pressed her palm against her mouth as the attack slowly faded away.

She'd been so selfish.

She shut her eyes, trembling hard against his shoulder, her damp forehead leaned on his warm neck.

She'd been a coward.

"Robert-"

"Don't be afraid, you'll be fine." he said, as his arms enclosed her into a protecting hug, his fingers ran onto her back, up to her neck and hair.

She _was_ afraid, but not of what he thought.

She didn't fear death, nor what it might have been next.

She hadn't been scared at all, of anything, before.

And now she was afraid of what she would have left behind: her daughters, her future, her husband.  
Because what if the table were turned, would she have survived her husband's death?

She would have left behind her Robert? Who would have taken care of him?

Her lunges constricted all of a sudden, long fingers of fright clasped her throat with a chocking grasp, her eyes burned, her chest too small to fill with air. Her hand flew to the front of her nightgown, wrinkling the fabric with a desperate hold; she wished she had the power to rip it, to free herself from that suffocating pain, from that awful destiny of loss and loneliness she would have left behind, once asleep.

"Cora-" Robert's voice was full of terror, and only when he rose up his hand, which he used for a quick brush on her cheek, she saw an irregular red stain on his pad, beyond her blurred sight. Was that blood? Was it coming from her?

She opened her mouth to speak, and suddenly a nasty metallic taste spread into her mouth, making her cough and squirm.

Was that the end?

"Sybil!" Robert yelled painfully into her ear. She wished she had the strength to complain, but Cora could only remained silent " _Sybil_!"

Cora coughed and coughed again, until she heard someone rushing into the room, followed by some hurried steps, two people, three, maybe more.

"Mama!"

Cora felt her head being dropped on the pillow. She frowned.

"Help her, I'll call for Clarkson."

She tried to tightening her hold on Robert's hand, begging him not to go, but she was just too weak to succeed.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks, now and she was unable to stop them. She cried for the ferocious attack, she cried because she was afraid to die without giving Robert a reason to live.

Was healing possible? Did she still have hope?

She felt like a doll when her youngest daughter lift her up, apparently without much effort, leaning her back onto a pile of pillows.

She was now brushing a damp cloth on her face, nose, lips.

What if it was too late for her?

Darling Sybil wasn't suppose to fuss over _her_ like that.

Some other important matters were way more pressing than her decaying health.

Cora drew a sharp breath when a wave of nausea hit her, hard, just as the thought of loosing everything and everyone she loved in just one night; maybe even in the other world she could have been able to take care of them, watch over them, see them grow and live happily their lives.  
Her daughter were strong and young, they would have overcome her passing, eventually, but what about Robert?

"Mama-" Sybil placed both her hands on her face, supporting her head, job that apparently became too difficult for her neck.

Cora strived to open her eyes, locking Sybil's so similar to her own; she rose her hand and loosely wrapped her fingers around her daughter's wrist, brushing her thumb on the back of her hand.

She smiled.

"Promise me you'll look after your father." she whispered "Would you?"

Sybil smiled back, her eyes wet.

"But you'll be fine." she replied but her voice broke.

"You've always been a terrible liar, darling."

Cora wore a pacific smile onto her lips. Her daughter herself, the one who had attended hundreds of soldiers with deadly wounds and sicknesses knew that her chances were few.  
So now her job was different than to fight for her own life.

Robert was all it mattered.

"So, would you look after you papa? For me?"

Cora watched her daughter trying to kill a sob into her throat.

Sybil gave her a knowing look, then nodded.

* * *

prompt from my tumblr  
91\. Promise me you'll look after your father.

 **Set: serie 2, episode 8  
Character: Cora Crawley (pov), Robert Crawley, Sybil Crawley  
Words: 1,185**


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